


The Dragon Reborn

by HeavenOnFire



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: M/M, Rhaegar is somehow alive, a little fluff, a little hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-22 00:51:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14297193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeavenOnFire/pseuds/HeavenOnFire
Summary: Jon stared at Ser Davos. He looked back to Dany then to the knight again. “What?”“There is a man at the gate, Your Grace,” Davos said. “He claims to be Queen Daenerys’ brother.”Jon saw the lines around Dany’s mouth harden. “My brother is dead.” The Queen answered.Davos’ back hunched. “Aye, I’ve heard that story, Your Grace. He claims to be the other brother, the Last Dragon. He says his name is Rhaegar.”





	The Dragon Reborn

**The Dragon Reborn**

 

**The Wolf**

Jon stared at Ser Davos. He looked back to Dany then to the knight again. “What?”

“There is a man at the gate, Your Grace,” Davos said. “He claims to be Queen Daenerys’ brother.”

Jon saw the lines around Dany’s mouth harden. “My brother is dead.” The Queen answered.

Davos’ back hunched. “Aye, I’ve heard that story, Your Grace. He claims to be the other brother, the Last Dragon. He says his name is Rhaegar.”

Rhaegar Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone who kidnapped his aunt Lyanna and raped her, Jon remembered. Bran had told him another tale. That Aunt Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar loved each other. They had married in a secret ceremony in Dorne where his mother eventually died in childbirth. The man outside claimed to be his father, the rightful king of Westeros. Jon looked at his Queen and his mouth was dry. “Let’s see this man. If he’s a liar, he will pay dearly for it.”

That brought them to the battlements of Winterfell, facing a man wrapped in a thick blanket that still had straws on it. He turned his hooded head towards them and Jon saw that his dark eyes were more purple than blue.

“Show me your face,” Dany commanded. She approached him slowly and Jon wanted to hold her back.

The stranger smiled at her, a tired but honest smile. “Dany.” He whispered her name as if he had said it before. But Prince Rhaegar died in the battle at the trident before she was born. They have never met.

“How do you know me?”

“I’ve seen you in my dreams, little sister. You are more beautiful than I remember.”

Not very original to compliment the Dragon Queen on her beauty, Jon thought. Many men knelt for her because of that.

“Then show me your face. I too once saw my brother in a dream.”

He did as he was told and suddenly Jon wanted to laugh. He had heard so many stories about the noble and beautiful dragon prince, he had always imagined him to be of otherworldly appearance, just like his sister. But this man was unwashed and unkempt. His beard was uneven and couldn't hide the hollow of his cheeks. His pale hair might have been of a similar shade to Dany’s, but they were littered with dirt now and had the color of muddy water. If not for the purple of his eyes, Jon would have sent him away this instant.

Then he realized that what bothered him the most was that this man didn’t seem much older than himself, less the age of his own father. Rhaegar should have been five and forty now, not barely thirty. He should have been hunched with age, not as straight as a young tree.

Jon snorted. “I’ve not the time for your tricks, man. Tell us who you are and what you came for less I send you off into the cold.”

“We’re in the cold right now, Your Grace,” the man replied, unflinching. “I am who I claim to be. Though the circumstance of my predicament is a much longer tale, one not suited for windy battlements.”

“My brother is dead,” Dany insisted again. “Both of them. I saw Viserys die of a golden crown. I saw Rhaegar die in the water with a woman’s name on his lips. Whatever you hope to gain by claiming to be my brother, you will not get it here.”

The false prince nodded, “Aye, a fateful day I did not expect to survive. Yet I did, by chance or the cruel god’s will, I cannot say. They deny me my eternal rest and wake me in a body yet full of youth. They curse me to see what I have wrought, believe me, young Queen, it is much worse than I feared. But I draw breath and carry my steel. My honor commands me to seek you out and pledge my sword to your cause, for I have nothing left but the strength in my arms.”

Jon gaped. “You wish to fight for us?”

“I wish to fight for the living,” Rhaegar said.

“It’s not a easy fight,” Jon reminded him. This man could be who he said he was, or he was one of the lost souls seeking refuge behind Winterfell’s strong walls. He would not have the latter here and the first was hard to believe.

“Things worth fighting for never are,” Rhaegar replied.

“If you want to fight, I won’t stop you,” Jon said. “What should we call you then?”

“Rhaegar. My name is Rhaegar.”

Dany shook her head. “I do not believe you, ser. You bear resemblance to my brother, but he is dead. He has been dead for some twenty years now.” She promptly turned from the stranger and faced Jon instead. “I will not have him presume my brother’s name. Conscript him for your army, if you must. But if he insist on this insult, I’ll feed him to my dragons!”

Jon dared not look back to the man until she was gone. “Do you still claim to be Prince Rhaegar?”

The man chuckled. “Sadly I do, Your Grace. I could never be someone I’m not.”

Jon sighed and rubbed the roots of his nose. He had no other choice. He signaled the guards and told them to put shackles around his hands. Rhaegar made no attempt to oppose when they ripped the blanket from his shoulder and Jon saw that he wore black gambeson beneath. The rundown sack at his feet clanked when the guards took it away. They must contain his arms and armor.

For now, this man was his prisoner. Perhaps a few days in the dungeons would change his mind about being the dragon prince.

 

**The Griffin**

Jon stared at the King in the North and the Dragon Queen, seeing both of them and thinking that they had gone mad. It wouldn’t surprise him. They wouldn’t be the first mad Targaryen he had to deal with.

“Your Grace,” he stammered. He wiped at his beard and shook himself to clear his mind of what they had just told him. “You have a man in your dungeons who claims to be Prince Rhaegar.” He still couldn’t believe it.

“None remain who once knew him,” Queen Daenerys said. “I have hoped that you-”

“Rhaegar is dead, that man is a liar.” Jon interrupted her. Both pride and hate swirled in him. It felt good to be called upon in regards of Prince Rhaegar, and it pained him to his core. Twenty years did little to change his heart.

“Please, ser,” Queen Daenerys urged, “I once saw my brother in a dream. He had the face of the man in the cell. I would not ask you to see him if I didn’t believe that he could be my brother. Find the truth for me, Lord Connington, put my heart at ease.”

She didn’t know how restless Jon’s own heart was. If he went to see this man, it would not be for his new young queen who had never even known Rhaegar.

She came towards him. She was so little she seemed a child looking up at him. _She is a child_ , Jon thought.

“Ser, I promise you, if he is not my brother, I will punish him accordingly. If he really is a liar….”

Jon clenched his right fist, once blacked by grayscale, now feeling the scars that covered his entire hand. He ignored the bitter hate for himself that came with Rhaegar’s name and nodded. He relaxed his palm and nodded at the child queen. “If he is a liar, I will kill him myself.”

He followed the wolf and the dragon down to the dungeons. He stared at her hair in light of the flickering torches, thinking how much he missed the way Rhaegar’s hair looked like pale gold when they sat at a campfire. She was beautiful, even Jon could see that. But his silver prince was unmatched. Not by his own sister, and certainly not by some unworthy liar who dared to presume his name.

He stopped at the end of the stairs where King Snow told him to wait. He could not see the prisoner yet, which was good. He didn’t know how to feel if that man really turned out to be his silver prince. Rhaegar’s body was never found, at least not that Jon knew of. And Jon knew what Varys knew. He shook his head. _No, too many people saw him fall that day, the rubies on his plate raining down like drops of blood. Too many people were there when his dragon prince died._ But not Jon. Jon was across the narrow sea, drinking his sorrow away and hoping for Rhaegar to recall him to his side once the war was won.

Deeper down the cells, King Snow spoke. “So, you still wouldn’t tell us your name? Three days isn’t enough?”

“My name is Rhaegar, Your Grace. Of house Targaryen.”

Jon frowned. The voice was that of a grown man, clear and strong. But he couldn’t say if it was Rhaegar’s or not. He couldn’t even remember Rhaegar’s voice.

“You fully understand that if you cannot prove your claim, you will be punished,” Queen Daenerys said. “Lying to a Queen means death.”

“I am not lying, sister,” Rhaegar answered. “You have me shaved and bathed, to better see my face I presume. Now you have seen it, what is your judgement? Am I the man in your vision, or do you still believe me a liar?”

“I don’t know what I should believe,” she said, “My brother died twenty years ago at the Trident. You carry his colors, his arms and armor, but you are not a dead man. How? Why?”

“I cannot answer your questions. Whatever god or demon saved me, they did not reveal themselves to me.” Rhaegar replied. “I found my belongings at the entrance to the cave, near Harrenhal where it all began. When I walked the King’s Road, I heard stories of two queens and a bastard king. Of Direwolves and Dragons. Of wildlings south of the wall and an army fighting for the dawn. It was all that I needed to know. Thus, I came here. I could have taken another man’s name, pretend to be someone else and joined your ranks. I could have hid who I am. Alas I don’t want to, because I am your brother, Dany. I wanted to see you and know you. And you, my son. Pass your sentence on me, King and Queen. Let this pointless interrogation end.”

The Queen sighed and so did the King. After a moment of silence, Jon Snow cleared his throat. “More words won’t solve it. We have a witness who can recognize you. I’ll hear his judgement.”

Jon abandoned the shadow at the stairs and gathered his resolve. The man in the cell was tall, like Rhaegar was tall. He was slightly thinner than Jon remembered, but then everyone was thinner now. The prisoner turned his head towards him as Jon approached and the Lord of Griffin’s Roost felt as if he was a boy again.

“Jon!” his silver prince called out to him. He rushed towards the iron bars and wrapped his long fingers around them. He pressed his face against the cold and a smile spread across his sunken face.

“Rhaegar,” Jon breathed. He was shaking and trembling. He still ran towards the cell door, Rhaegar mirroring his steps on the other side. Their fingers brushed the cold iron, always so close but so far away.

“Jon, is that you?” Rhaegar gasped.

Jon caught Rhaegar’s hand over the lock, holding on and telling himself to never let go again. “Rhaegar, how can this be? You’re… you’re dead! They told me that you’re dead!”

“I don’t know! I don’t know how this came to be!” Rhaegar caught his other hand and placed it on his own cheek. “I thought was I was dying. Robert’s hammer, it tore through my chest. I should have died. It felt like dying. But then I… I don’t know. I slept and I woke. I don’t remember anything in between. Jon, open the door.”

To the King, Jon Connington yelled. “Keys! Give me the fucking keys!”

The boy said nothing, but tossed him the keys. Jon had to try several before he found the right one, the entire time feeling Rhaegar’s eyes on him. After the fourth, he tossed the door open and pushed through to Rhaegar. The prince threw himself into Jon’s embrace, his face flush against Jon’s and his hands on his back. They were still strong, still so sure where they wanted to be.

Rhaegar cried into Jon’s fur, his hands reaching up to cling to Jon’s shoulders. Jon buried his nose in Rhaegar’s neck, his fingers finding their way into those silver hair. He was crying, too. The first tears in a long time and the first ones out of joy.

“How could this be?” he whispered, “What gods would be so cruel to take you from me, and return you when all hope is lost? Is this a dream? Am I dreaming?”

Rhaegar sniffed. “This is no dream, my friend. I’m here, I’m really here!” He pulled back just enough to gently caress Jon’s face. He must look terribly old to Rhaegar. “I’m so sorry, Jon. I wish I could change things, but… I failed. I failed you, I failed everyone.”

“No,” Jon gasped, “It’s me who failed! I lost the battle, I lost you! Had I slain that Robert at the Stony Sept, had I just burned the damn town, then you wouldn’t….”

Rhaegar stopped him with one look. “Jon, I never blame you. Even as he struck me down, I never blamed you. I was only glad that you survived, that father didn’t burn you. And nothing makes me more happy than this, that after all this time, you still remember me!”

“How could I ever forget? My prince, you mean… everything to me! I would have gladly given my life in exchange for yours!”

Rhaegar’s hand was on his face now, a thumb stroking the gray in Jon’s beard. Rhaegar’s eyes were sad as he looked at Jon and he blinked his tears away. From the other side of the dungeon, a loud cough came from the Wolf King. Jon had almost forgotten that they were still there. Both of them were staring when he wiped his tears away and turned to face them. He untangled himself from Rhaegar, putting his body before Rhaegar like a shield.

“Your Grace,” he cleared his throat, testing his voice. “This is Prince Rhaegar, without a doubt.”

“Are you certain?” Queen Daenerys asked.

“I’m certain,” the Lord of Griffin’s Roost nodded. “Even after twenty years, I would know Rhaegar.”

“But he’s my age!” Jon Snow gasped.

“Aye, he’s the age I last remember him. Four and twenty, no more, no less.”

Queen Daenerys tried to control her face, but it still slipped. She shook her head, her eyes dancing from Jon to Rhaegar. “I have heard of men wearing the faces of the dead. Ser, ask him something only the two of you would know.”

“What things?”

“Secrets that you keep. Things that was not common knowledge. You were friends, something that no other knows.”

“Aye, prove he’s not some skin-changer.”

Jon looked at Rhaegar and felt a lump in his throat. They kept so many secrets of each other Jon wouldn’t even know where to begin. Which one should he reveal, which one to keep hidden?

“How did you meet?” Snow asked.

“In the stables of the Red Keep,” Rhaegar answered without pause. “Jon mistook me for a noble lady, and gallantly offered to saddle my horse for me. He blushed so terribly when I-”

“Rhaegar!” Jon barked. The shove was still familiar. They had done that a thousand times when they were squires alongside each other. Rhaegar raised a brow at him and Jon rolled his eyes. “Oh, just shut up.”

“Why? I thought it was lovely.”

“Mortifying!”

“Endearing.”

“Stupid.”

“I agree,” Rhaegar nodded. “Long hair does not make a lady.”

“You… you...” Jon wanted to bark some unflattering insult to tease his prince, but thought better of it. He was not a squire any longer. He cleared his throat but Rhaegar challenged him to speak with a smug grin.

“Is that all you wish to know?” Rhaegar asked the Dragon Queen. “Or are there other stories I should share.”

“Were you...” she hesitated, her eyes dancing between them rapidly. “Were you lovers?”

“No!” Jon Connington shouted.

“Yes.” Rhaegar said. He wrapped his hand around Jon’s, something he wouldn’t have done were they in another place.

“You would just admit this?” Jon Snow was gaping again. He looked like he knew nothing.

“Lying to a Queen is punishable by death. So is lying to a king.” Rhaegar pulled Jon closer and Jon thought that his face must have the color his beard once had. “Jon, why don’t you tell them?”

“Tell them what?” he hissed.

Rhaegar leaned close to whisper in his ears. “Tell them whom the prince kneels for. Tell them how much you love to make me scream.”

Jon Connington shoved his silver prince again. “You have no shame!” To the King and Queen, he said. “I’m certain without a doubt that this fool standing next to me is Rhaegar Targaryen, the rightful heir to the iron throne. Now if Your Grace wouldn’t mind, I’d like to take His Grace to my chambers where I can fully update him on our situation.”

Neither Jon Snow nor Daenerys opposed his proposal and both of them jumped out of the way like two peasants watching a lord pass. They pressed themselves along the wall, their eyes wide and their mouths hanging open. Jon ignored them and pulled Rhaegar with him, their hands tight around each other’s. It was better this way. They had shocked the young rulers enough for one day.

 

**The Dragon**

They fumbled at each other’s robes as soon as the door closed behind them, and within minutes, Jon’s battered body was against his and his manhood inside Rhaegar. He cried out in pleasure when Jon started his thrusts, he moaned as Jon kissed his skin. They both came within minutes with Rhaegar bent over the bed, hands clawing at the sheets.

He had missed this, missed the warmth of another body on him, missed the sweet roughness of Jon’s touch. Ever since he rode off with Lyanna, he had yearned for Jon’s embrace. He had felt terribly guilty towards Jon when he stayed with Lyanna and watched over her as his child grew inside her. He was very fond of her, but he shared something deeper with Jon. When the news of Jon’s defeat at the Stony Sept and his following banishment reached him, Rhaegar had considered changing his course. But it was too late already, the end had begun and soon, a new beginning would start.

As they climbed into bed, Rhaegar reflected on what he had learned since his reawakening in that moss-covered cave. So many had died for his actions, his entire line ended and his innocent wife and children slain. He had torn a country apart and caused generations of suffering. He had followed the path destiny had set for him, believing it to have a righteous goal and history remembered him as a villain.

He could not regret it now, he told himself. He did what he thought was right. Perhaps he would be judged anew when all this was over.

Jon’s lips drew another moan from him as they traced his shoulder towards his neck. He caressed Jon’s hair, more gray than red now. Just like the fire of the Targaryen, they have turned to ash. _It is how things go_ , Rhaegar thought, _only death can pay for life_. Rhaegar had sacrificed thousands through his choices to ultimately save millions. He thought he had sacrificed himself as well, but some god had denied him his noble end.

Jon kissed him on the lips, his beard still soft and long. He was glad Jon kept it that way, he had always liked how fiery red they were. He was glad at least Jon managed to escape the consequences of his actions. It was almost laughable that it was Aerys’ rage that saved his life.

“Where are you?” Jon asked, his hands rough against Rhaegar’s scarred body.

“Just thinking,” Rhaegar replied. He didn’t want to spoil what they had. The time to face the darkness would come soon enough. The end was close, he could feel it. Just like he could feel the doom when he rode towards the Trident.

He pulled Jon into another kiss, deeper than any before. He himself poured the longing of two years into that kiss and was utterly overwhelmed when Jon replied with the hurt of twenty. They parted as young men, Rhaegar remembered. He had made promises he knew he couldn’t keep when he kissed Jon goodbye. There was tragery in that winter wind, a dreadful omen that all that was plenty and beautiful was about to end.

“This has to be a dream,” Jon muttered when he rolled down and pulled Rhaegar to his chest. “I’ve had this dream a thousand times. Everytime I wake, you’ll still be dead and I’ll still hate myself for it.”

“This is no dream,” Rhaegar said. He placed a kiss on Jon’s skin and started playing with the hair on his chest. They too were gray.

“Did it hurt?” Jon asked. He eyed the scar on Rhaegar’s side, the one evidence that the Battle at the Trident wasn’t just some nightmare. “Dying?”

Rhaegar shook his head. “I didn’t realize it until I hit the water. I just couldn’t breathe. And yours? Grayscale, it sound terrifying.”

“It is,” Jon sighed. “Twenty years, Rhaegar. We were just boys back then. So bloody young. Well, you still are, but I’m old. Twice your age now, older than my father ever was.”

He understood what Jon wanted to say and placed his chin on Jon’s chest. “You’re still dashing to me.” He kissed Jon again, soft and tender. “My griffin, my handsome griffin.”

“Your old griffin.”

“My loyal griffin. I like the beard, it’s still the best part of you.”

“Oh really?” Jon chuckled. “Nothing else comes to mind?”

Rhaegar smiled. “Well, and you still fuck like a man possessed.”

That drew a loud laugh from Jon. He smacked Rhaegar’s naked ass and pushed him back into the bed. “And you still moan like a whore.”

“You know your whores, Lord Connington?” Rhaegar teased. “Are you going to pay me now, m’lord?”

“Only if you’ve earn it.” Something dark passed his eyes and Jon rolled off of him again. He laid back, not looking at Rhaegar. “It’s been a very long time. I… I once vowed that I would never be with another man. But I broke that promise. Rhaegar, there were others. Across the narrow sea. When I was with the golden company.”

Rhaegar had to push his jealousy down. He himself had never been with another man other than Jon. But he was not the one living in exile for twenty years. “I understand. In any sense, I was dead. You needn’t keep faith with a dead man.”

“But you weren’t.”

“Weren’t I?” He stared at the candle burning in the corner when he put his head on Jon’s chest again. “I won’t pretend that it doesn’t bother me. I am jealous, knowing that some other man had you. You’re my griffin. But I understand. Did you love him?”

“No.”

That made Rhaegar feel a little better.

“But I liked him.” Jon continued. “Uglier than a bastard wench, but that smile. Had a way with men, made them trust him and love him. We fought together and I had a place at his side. He made me see what I should have done. Made me forget about you for a bit.”

Rhaegar shouldn’t have asked. “Sounds like you loved him.”

Jon’s arm pulled at him, pressing their naked bodies together. “I’ve never loved anyone but you.” He kissed Rhaegar’s head and moved down towards his neck. “Rhaegar, I was in love with you ever since I saw you. Were you a lady, I would have fought all the champions of the seven kingdoms to call you mine. Sometimes I wish that you were a lady and I could be your lord husband, that we could be together, rightfully, honorably, from our first day to our last. But you are my silver prince, my king. My love, when you kissed me on the tower of Griffin’s Roost, I swore that I would always be yours. I might have drunken myself into forgetting you for a few hours, but my heart never wavered.”

Rhaegar moaned when Jon kissed him. His words were so full of bitterness and hate, but strangely arousing. Rhaegar moved his thights open, wrapping them around Jon. “I love you,” he whispered softly and closed his eyes to enjoy the sensations his body meeting Jon’s.

“I love you, too.” Jon replied.

Jon took him like this, looking down on him and shielding him from the world. He moaned and screamed, called out his pleasure and love. He had always cherished the moment they could be free with each other and would not let dark thoughts haunt him. He called Jon his husband in his mind when his griffin pounded into him. He wished he had never broken faith with Jon to fulfill his destiny. He wished he was not a prince, promised or not, not a lord, or a knight. He just wanted to be a simple man, perhaps a singer on the hook, free from duty, free from fate and destiny, free to love whomever he wanted.

Tonight, Rhaegar was glad that no army would march on his behalf. That no one really cared who shared his bed and no one would ever care again.

“I’m yours, Rhaegar,” Jon said later when they were shrouded in darkness after the candle burned down. “I’ll always be yours.”

“I never doubted you, my loyal griffin.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! This is my first asoiaf story, I hope you liked it. Bless ADWD for this ship! I don't care that it's unrequited in the books, or that Rhaegar is dead, I just want to see them happy and cute with each other. :-D
> 
> Leave a comment and tell me what you think?


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